


Untruths and Truths

by masi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masi/pseuds/masi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric persuades Cassandra to play a few rounds of Two Lies and A Truth with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untruths and Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Credits: The game Varric plays is based on the Two Truths and a Lie game.

Varric walks towards the Gull and Lantern in Redcliffe, humming under his breath, ready for a night of tall tales, wine, and research. Maybe some book signing too, since it seems like everyone from surly elves to angry mages to shady Grey Wardens to backstabbing Orlesians love _Hard in Hightown_. In Varric’s opinion, however, _Tale of the Champion_ is a better read. It’s more honest, or as honest as he is comfortable with. It’s about Hawke. It’s about Varric’s favorite people, trying to do their best in the city where they became friends.

As soon as the first draft for the tale he is writing about the Inquisition feels done, he will head back to his city, meet up with his editor, publish the story. Then he will try to do what he can to help rebuild Kirkwall. He hopes that tonight is a productive night so that he won’t have to make another trip out here for material about Redcliffe, extending his stay at Skyhold yet again.

He half-wishes that one or two of his new friends from the Inquisition would have accompanied him here. It feels odd to be in Redcliffe without them. But they’ve been occupied with their own affairs. Lavellan did offer to come with him, was reaching for her gigantic axe as she spoke, but then she had been detained by Josephine and Cullen. So it’s just him, on his own again.

Or so he thinks until about he is about five feet away from the tavern door. He has just glanced towards his left, and then he sees her, the Seeker, stomping around on the road below.

He pauses, wondering if he should pretend to have not noticed her and go inside. She probably hasn’t seen him. For a trained Seeker and Right Hand, she can be astoundingly myopic. He can go inside now and tease her about this tomorrow. 

But, he is curious in spite of himself. It’s rare for Cassandra to go anywhere by herself these days. When she is not busy accompanying Lavellan to important meetings, she stays cooped up at Skyhold with her training dummies and her very important writing, i.e., stale histories that even the starchiest scholars won’t read. Weird that she’s here, scowling and looking lost, in only the lightest armor, no gigantic shield attached to her back. He has gotten used to seeing Cassandra by his side, or, as is more often the case, a few feet ahead of him, crouched low with her sword and shield, drawing attention to herself and away from the others, accepting the blows while he reloads his crossbow.

“Seeker!” Varric calls. 

Cassandra turns around abruptly, eyes wide and mouth open. Varric smiles to himself as he walks back down to the main road. She has probably come here to buy another collection of poetry or one of those novels she calls “smutty literature.”

“What are you doing here, Varric,” Cassandra says.

“Funny. That’s what I was going to ask you.”

“I asked first.”

“That didn’t sound like a question. More like a thinly veiled threat. Reminds me of the good old days in Kirkwall when you were interrogating me for information about Hawke.”

Cassandra replies, in an almost mild tone, “I suppose you will lie to me now as you did back then, and as you continued to do about Hawke until he arrived at Skyhold, so I do not see the point of continuing this conversation further. Goodbye. Do not cause any trouble for the Inquisition while you are here, Varric.”

The Inquisition has been good for Cassandra, Varric thinks as he watches her walk up towards the tavern. She hasn’t changed so drastically that Varric can’t recognize her or anything like that, but she thinks twice before aiming a punch at his face these days, for which he is grateful. It’s not easy to change one’s habits. He likes her well enough now, although he would think twice about including her among his favorite people. 

Varric follows Cassandra into the Gull and Lantern, saying, “What surprises me is that you actually believed me about Hawke. Am I not constantly telling everyone that I’m a compulsive liar?”

Cassandra stops by the nearest empty table and crosses her arms. “I understand why you lied about Hawke, but why do you always lie, Varric? Why are you proud of being a liar? It is nothing to be proud of.”

Varric opens his mouth, only to find that he doesn’t have a reply ready. He’s not sure where to begin. There are various reasons for why lying has become a habit, for example, _lying is necessary when you have to maintain a network of spies, just ask Nightingale_ , or _it’s not lying per se, it’s embellishment, it’s imagination, how else can I write the romance story you like so much?_

He’s about to make a joke and then suggest that she buy him a drink when he sees something odd in Cassandra’s expression. It’s something like concern, instead of irritation and anger. It’s the last thing he expected to see.

Varric says, “It’s too late to change a handsome dwarf so set in his ways like me. But since you’ve been mildly successful in your quest to improve yourself, how about I teach you a new skill? You need to get better at recognizing lies. That’s a skill that’ll help you when you and Curly and Ruffles are playing your games of power.”

“No, thank you,” Cassandra says.

“Aw, Seeker, I’m trying to do you a favor. It’s just a simple game called Two Lies and a Truth.” He smiles up at her. “As a parting gift, before I leave Skyhold.”

Cassandra shifts from one foot to the other, frowning. After a moment, she asks, “You’re leaving Skyhold? Where are you going?”

“I’ll answer that as part of the game. You want to play or not?”

Cassandra makes a disapproving sound, but then she says, “Fine. I’ll play this game, Varric.”

“Buy me a drink first.” he sits down at the table.

She glowers at him, goes over to the bartender, and procures two glasses of the cheapest, nastiest wine this side of the Waking Sea.

After he has managed to drink half of it without gagging, Varric rubs his hands together and says, “Alright, this is how the game goes. Technically, it’s supposed to be Two Truths and a Lie, but I’m going to say two things that are untrue and one that’s true. You have to guess which statement is true.”

Cassandra asks, “And this will help me discern falsehoods better and faster?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “Proceed with your lies and truth.”

“Number one.” Varric holds up a finger. “I’m going back to the Free Marches, specifically Kirkwall, to help with reconstruction efforts.”

She frowns. Varric holds up another finger. “Second. I’m going to Weisshaupt to find Hawke.”

She narrows her eyes. Varric holds up his left ring finger. “I’m leaving to meet up with Bianca and start another business venture.”

Cassandra nods, straightens her shoulders, lifts her chin. “The third one is the truth, and the first two are lies.”

Varric wishes, again, that Bianca had never come to Skyhold. Now everyone thinks that the two of them are deeply and tragically in love. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. She definitely isn’t, not anymore, and that’s best for her.

“Wrong, Seeker,” Varric says. 

“The second one then?” Cassandra is glaring again. “You did tell Dorian that you wanted to go to Weisshaupt because that is where Hawke is.”

“Close, but no.” 

“The first one?” Cassandra looks as doubtful as she sounds. “Truly? You are going to help the Free Marches? How exactly are you going to help the reconstruction efforts?”

“Sorry, one question per round.” Varric stands up. “Gotta go, I have important business to attend to. We can play another time, Seeker. Try to work on your bullshit-detecting skills in the meantime. Thanks for the drink.”

“What important business do you have, Varric?” Cassandra snaps. “Playing cards?”

“You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re here. You seeking someone? Or something? Let me guess, you wanted a new book of love poems, but the bookseller didn’t have what you were looking for.”

Cassandra blushes, which is all the answer Varric needs. Typical Seeker. He heads towards the center of the tavern, where the bard is singing about the Inquisitor.

Cassandra follows him, but when he is ambushed by a group of fans who start talking loudly about _Hard in Hightown_ , she returns to their table. When Varric turns to look for her again, several minutes later, she is gone. 

Too easy, he thinks. He’s glad that Cassandra is still easy to read. She may be boring to write about, none of those quirks that his favorites have, but he needs boring in real life sometimes, needs a person who can be counted on to not throw any nasty surprises his way.

He wouldn’t have minded her company though, he realizes an hour later, after he has signed thirty copies of _Hard in Hightown_ , listened to twenty different suggestions about how he could have written the tale better, asked ten times about his “feelings for Seeker Pentaghast,” and been doused with wine once. He mops up the wine that has soaked his chest hair, and then he heads back to Skyhold. 

***

Varric is leaving the Undercroft with his newly upgraded Bianca when he sees Cassandra stepping out of the corridor that leads to Josephine’s office. 

“Trying your hand at the delicate negotiations business?” he asks her. “Remember, the key word is delicate. Not stabbing. Not punching.”

Cassandra looks more displeased than usual. She follows him, close at his heels, as he walks out of the castle and towards the shops outside. 

“What did I do now?” he asks. 

“Josephine asked me to go to Val Royeaux today,” she says. “You’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me? Why am I the one coming with you?”

“Because I am leaving right now, and you are here with me. I do not have time to search for the others. Besides,” she eyes Bianca, “your weapon looks like it’s in good shape. It may come in handy.”

“I upgraded her because I’ll need Bianca when I go back to the Free Marches. I don’t want her to get scratched before then.”

Cassandra scoffs. Then she says, “Varric, I would appreciate your company on this trip. Please.”

“Alright, Seeker, since you used your polite words, I’ll go with you. See?” Varric smiles. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Cassandra, shaking her head, disappears into the armory. Varric returns to his room to get ready as well. He can buy the things he needs for his trip back to Kirkwall at another time. He doesn’t mind going to Val Royeaux with Cassandra. It’s always entertaining to watch her interact with hoity-toity Orlesians. He likes the fact that they both have a healthy dislike for people who make a fuss about rank and wealth. It’s one of the few things they have in common.

“What are we going to be doing there?” he asks when they meet up again.

He notes that this question should have been asked earlier. It’s just that it’s so easy to get swept up in Cassandra’s momentum. 

And it’s easy to feel a little out of one’s depth, a little dazzled, when she’s like this, standing so tall in front of him, the harsh angles of her face somehow softened by the light purple color of her newest court outfit. Her gloves fit her perfectly from the tips of her long fingers to her elbows, and there is a distracting gold-colored bow at each end. He catches a whiff of lavender, so different from the usual scent of leather and metal, when she lifts one hand to adjust her braid.

He directs his gaze to the long scar on her left cheek as she explains that Vivienne will be meeting with a couple of Orlesian nobles in Val Royeaux this week to discuss a matter involving Divine Victoria. She may need their assistance if the discussion turns violent. 

Varric isn’t sure he wants to get involved – it doesn’t sit too well with him, the long reach of the Inquisition that keeps growing even in this post-Corypheus world, the fact that Nightingale has become the new Divine – but he doesn’t want Cassandra to go charging off on her own either. That would end badly for everyone. 

He follows her out of the courtyard. As they are walking down the hill to where the carriage is waiting, he says, “You look great, Seeker.” 

Cassandra blinks, and then narrows her eyes at him. “Are we playing that game again?” she asks. “Two lies, one truth?”

“We can play that once we’re in the carriage. I was just giving you a compliment, one friend to another, and you haven’t returned it. How do I look?”

Her gaze moves from his face to his chest, and then her cheeks redden the slightest bit. She coughs, puts a hand on the hilt of her sword. “You look great as well,” she says. “Happy? Let’s keep moving.” 

She strides forward, putting a distance of about ten feet between them.

“It’s the necklace, isn’t it?” he says. “Makes all my outfits really shine. When you want any jewelry made, just let me know.”

“What would I do with a necklace like that,” she scoffs, but she slows down a bit. 

“Ready to play?” Varric asks when they have settled into the carriage and are on their way to Val Royeaux. “Alright, the first-”

“No,” Cassandra says. She leans forward. “I want to ask you a question, and you will give me three answers. I will figure out which answer is the truth.”

“Whatever helps you develop your bullshit-detecting skills, Seeker.”

Cassandra lapses into silence, her brow furrowed like she is thinking very hard. He waits, smiling. He can’t believe he’s playing this game with her. He has never liked talking about personal matters, and now he’s practically offering them on a platter to Cassandra the Romantic. She has already asked him a very intrusive question about Bianca before, to which he had responded with his own about her love life and then regretted when she told him about Regalyan. Now they are back to square one.

Sure enough, she uses this opportunity to ask, “So, Varric, are you and Bi- I mean.” She shakes her head, frowning. “I must rephrase that.” She takes a deep breath. “Who do you love most in this world? Who would you like to grow old with?”

“That’s two questions.”

“They are the same thing.”

“Not really. You can love someone but not want to grow old with them.”

Cassandra sighs. “I hope the Guardsman doesn’t say that to the Knight-Captain in the next chapter of Swords and Shields.”

“Yeah, about that, he’s going to-” 

“No, don’t tell me! I want to read it for myself. Answer the second question.”

The answer to the second question isn’t easy. It would have easily been “Bianca,” before he met Hawke, before the Deep Roads expedition happened, before Bartrand went mad, before Bianca disappointed him and he found himself telling Lavellan that he would still see Bianca. _I always do_. For people like him, who don’t like to deal with things, it’s more convenient to stick to old patterns, to hold onto the past, disappointing and bittersweet or no. He should have let Bianca go a long time ago. He needs to be a better person so that she can stop wasting precious time worrying about him and feeling sorry for him, time she can spend on her brilliant inventions instead. He wishes he hadn’t written to her about the Deep Roads expedition.

“Alright, Seeker,” he says. “My answers are. Bianca.” He pats his crossbow. “My favorite pen. And the memory of when you pretended you didn’t want to read my latest chapter of Swords and Shields and then snatched it out of my hand.”

“Ugh.” Cassandra edges to the corner of the carriage. The look of pure disgust on her face is priceless. 

“Ugh wasn’t one of the choices.”

“The answer is obviously Bianca.”

“Wrong,” Varric says. 

“That is a lie. I am not playing this game anymore.”

“The answer is the pen. Bianca is a close second, but who wants to keep fighting until death? I want to retire with grace and fame, with my favorite pen. I hope I don’t forget that memory of you though. It’s hilarious.”

Cassandra says, “You are an ass, Varric.”

He asks, “How about you? You found another special someone you’d like to grow old with?”

“I don’t wish to grow old,” she says. 

“You want to die on the battlefield then, fighting until your last breath.”

“There are worse ways to die.”

“Good thing you weren’t chosen to become Divine then.”

He thinks for a second that he might have gone too far, and he is searching for placating words, but Cassandra says, “It is probably for the best.”

“It probably is,” he agrees. 

Cassandra would have felt stifled eventually, probably, under all the pressures that came with being the Divine. If she wasn’t taken out before then for pissing off everyone from one end of Thedas to the other. But Varric would have definitely felt safer with her in charge. Leliana’s methods of maintaining power and control have always been unsettling at best and fatal at worst. 

“It is for the best,” Cassandra repeats firmly, like she is trying to reassure herself. “The Inquisitor needs me at her side, and Josephine requires my services more now that Leliana has left Skyhold.” 

“You’re right,” Varric says. “And this way we can keep having these little adventures together. I know how much you love having me around so that you can hear my awesome stories.” 

Cassandra smiles a little before turning to look out the window. Varric looks at the beautiful braid coiled around her head, at the corner of her mouth, gradually relaxing, at her fingers, loose around the sheath of her sword. He will have to find some way to incorporate this image of her into the tale about the Inquisition. It feels wrong to leave readers with the impression that she’s merely a tall, grumpy Seeker who started the Inquisition, prone to thuggish behavior, rude and stubborn and boringly efficient.

He hopes he’ll be able to retain all of his memories of her after they part. That memory of her in the courtyard with his book, and ones like these, of Cassandra allowing herself to relax, a peaceful silence settling between them. 

***

Lavellan finds him a week after the trip to Val Royeaux to say that she will miss him when he leaves for the Free Marches. Then she says, smiling and looking hopeful, “Would you like to accompany me to the Hinterlands, Varric? We’re running a bit low on elfroot, and I thought I would go pick some myself instead of sending for it. For old time’s sake.”

Varric isn’t sure how they could ever run low elfroot, or why they need to be nostalgic prematurely. His date of departure hasn’t been fixed yet. But Lavellan is clearly itching to leave Skyhold. He can’t really blame her. Even an indoors-loving person like him feels smothered in this castle, with all the eyes everywhere watching his every movement. 

“Sure thing,” he says. “Let me grab Bianca.”

They are passing through the courtyard when Cassandra joins them. Varric is startled to find that he’s actually happy that she is coming with them, instead of angry, or mildly irritated, or indifferent. But then, Cassandra has been almost fun to talk to lately. They even managed to have a few laughs together at Val Royeaux.

When they reach the Forest Camp, Lavellan tells them to go on without her. The Requisition Officer wants to have a word; she will catch up to them later. Varric follows Cassandra halfway down the hill, and then he stops to sketch a picture of an elfroot into his notebook. Cassandra continues on, her feet sure and steady on the slope, frowning as she pulls the elfroots out of the ground.

He wants to play that game with her again, but he doesn’t want to suggest it first. He asks instead, “Why is the Inquisition so obsessed with geological surveys?” 

“It is important for the Inquisition to know the lay of the land,” Cassandra replies.

“How long does the Inquisition plan to rule over all of Thedas?”

She frowns. “We do not rule over all of Thedas.”

“Not yet anyway.”

He puts his notebook back into his pocket, and then he starts walking towards Cassandra, carefully, sticking to the well-trodden paths. He has almost reached her when he slips.

He reaches out to grab onto an elfroot, or some grass, or anything, but his gloves slide right over them. Before he can hurtle straight off the hill, however, Cassandra reaches him. Her fingers close around his arm. He grabs onto her arm for support.

“Thanks,” Varric says, after he has regained his footing.

It will be great to be back in Kirkwall. A nice change of pace from walking up and down hills that are like vertical lines connecting the sky to the ground, from fighting while waist-deep in murky waters, something slimy trying to crawl into his pants. It will be especially nice to not need help from Cassandra. Cassandra, who is still holding onto him, gloved fingers pressing gently into his arm.

“I’m fine now, Seeker,” he says, releasing his own grip on her. He hopes that his ears haven’t turned red. “I think I’ll live, really.”

She jerks her hand away. “You were the one holding onto me,” she says, and then blushes fiercely.

Varric wonders what he has done to deserve this. Just when they were becoming friends, she decides to set her sights on him in the romantic sense. What’s worse is that he is both flattered and intrigued. He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her.

He resolves immediately not to find out. It’s best for both of them this way. He is going home soon, and she has important Inquisition business to attend to. And she’s the kind of person who gets attached, so a casual fling is out of the question. He won’t do that to her. She’s not a character in one of his tales; she shouldn’t have to run the gamut of emotions from happiness to despair and then meet a heroic and tragic end. Bad things often happen to people who get too close to him. 

But then again, he reflects, bad things happen to people she loves too, so maybe getting together is the only solution. But, maybe it’s best not to find out. She’ll get over this, and so will he, like mature adults do. 

Thus resolved, Varric says, “What’s taking Lavellan so long? You think she’s given us the slip and gone off to some place she can be free again?”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Cassandra glares at him. “How can you say that of her after all she has done for us?”

“She might not leave just yet, but trust me, she’s feeling the pressure. But, relax, Seeker. She won’t be able to stay away. All you hero-types are the same.”

“And all rogues are the same.”

He can’t help but be a little offended even though that comment was prompted by his own generalization. “How are we the same?” he asks. “I’m nothing like Buttercup or Kid. And you should meet my friend Rivaini. Don’t tell her what you told me, she’ll like that even less than me.”

“Most of you are unreliable and a pain in the ass.”

“When have I ever been unreliable when it really counts? Besides not telling you about Hawke, which I don’t regret.”

Cassandra makes a loud, frustrated noise, drops her collection of elfroot on the ground, and goes off to fight an approaching bear. Varric readies Bianca. He is aiming for the bear when Lavellan appears, finally.

After they have chased the bear off, however, Lavellan says, looking apologetic, “I am needed back at Skyhold. Would you like to return with me or stay out here for awhile longer?” She looks up at the blue sky. “It’s such a lovely day.”

“The Seeker will go with you,” Varric says. “I have some fact-checking to do at the Crossroads.”

“Let’s go,” Cassandra says.

Lavellan waves her hands. “No, no, Cassandra, you can stay with Varric. The roads around these parts aren’t all that safe, are they? I will feel better knowing that you two are together.” She turns towards Varric. “See you later, and don’t worry about the elfroot, I’ll pick some along the way.”

Cassandra might have argued with Lavellan about this arrangement just two months back, but now she only says, “I do not approve, Inquisitor, but I will defer to your judgment.”

After Lavellan is out of earshot, Varric says, “Hey, it’s not like I want to be stuck here with you either, Seeker. Try to stay out of my way while I work, alright?”

“Believe me, Varric, I do not wish to be here either,” Cassandra says, and slams the visor of her helmet down.

That is just fine with Varric. He doesn’t want to look at her pretty, expressive eyes and feel things like guilt and hope. He has work to do. 

When they have reached the Crossroads, however, and Varric has started to talk to the villagers, Cassandra removes her helmet and begins inserting herself into his conversations.

He tries to be patient, but after Cassandra tells the merchant who was about to reveal which leader of the Inquisition she thinks is shady as fuck, “Young lady, do not tell this dwarf any of your secrets, he will publish it in a book and also turn you into a tragic character,” he really has had enough. 

He heads over to the Outskirts Camp, and once they are away from curious onlookers, he says to Cassandra, “What’s your problem? Why do you take so much pleasure in interfering with my life?”

“What do you mean?” She glares at him. “You were gossiping at the Crossroads, and I put a stop to it.”

“I was collecting information. But of course you wouldn’t realize that. The only way you know how to do anything is with sharp, pointy objects and a fist.”

“Why can’t you let the past go, Varric? I have apologized many times. Why do you continue to insult me?”

“I’ll give you three answers for that question, and you can figure out which one is true for yourself.”

She crosses her arms.

“One,” Varric says, “it’s because you annoy me with your constant prying and interference, and you clearly love to make my life more miserable than it already is.”

Cassandra looks so hurt, Varric almost apologizes right away. 

The words, however, get lost somewhere in the process of coming out of his mouth, somehow end up sounding like, “Two, for roughing me up in Kirkwall. Three, for putting a gigantic hole through Tale of the Champion.”

She clears her throat. Her voice is a bit raspy as she says, “The first one.”

“No,” Varric says immediately. The lie sounds perfectly convincing to his own ears. “It’s not-”

“I won this round.” Cassandra adjusts her shield. “I think I understand how to play this game now.” 

She puts her helmet back on and does not take it off again until they reach Skyhold.

***

Cassandra refuses to join him and the others for their weekly night of Wicked Grace. Her loss. Varric is so distracted, he is sure she would have actually been able to win a few coins off of him.

After losing to not only Ruffles and Sparkler, but also to Tiny and Curly, Varric decides to call it a night.

Lavellan leaves the table as well, and she tells him when they have reached the other side of the hall, “Cassandra is sitting up on the battlements.” Her smile is a tad strained. “Reading poems underneath the stars. Have you two been arguing?” 

“When are we not arguing?”

Lavellan looks ready to dispense advice, but then she seems to think better of it. “I’m sure you know what to do, Varric,” she says.

“Yeah. I need to do better.”

He considers asking her for tips on how to embrace change. He hates trying to change things. Trying to change things has led to where they are now: his old home a fading memory, Hawke lost somewhere in or near Weisshaupt or worse, numerous wounds that won’t heal. But Lavellan is returning to the others. And it’s high time he stopped using her as a counselor. She has enough problems of her own.

Varric climbs up to the battlements, rehearsing what he is going to say. He needs to be truthful for once. It’s important that he make things right between them. 

“Cassandra,” he says, as soon as he has found her. About what I said yesterday-”

“Poetry is beautiful,” Cassandra declares. She carefully turns a page of the book she is holding in her hands. “Why is it that every single poem in this book, and every single verse in each poem, speaks to me? There is something profound yet unreachable in this collection.”

Those poems would probably speak to him at this moment too, Varric reflects. Cassandra is a vision, bathed in the moonlight, a candle burning low in front of her. She has taken off all of her armor and is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Approachable at last.

“Poems explore suspended moments in time, often through the use of excessive metaphors,” Varric says. “Also, the speaker isn’t as clearly defined as the protagonist of a tale, usually, so it’s easy to make the poem all about you.”

“I like that kind of speaker.” Cassandra turns another page. “It is difficult to relate to any of your characters, except the Knight-Captain, whose fate I am still waiting to learn and will probably never know because you only work on that series when the Inquisitor tells you to.”

She blows out the candle, and then she closes the book with a snap.

“Are we even now?” he asks, smiling in what he hopes is a winsome way. “I said harsh things about your personality yesterday, and you criticized my writing today.”

“No. Those two things are not remotely comparable.”

“Alright, alright.” Varric holds up his hands. “I’ll say it again. I’m sorry. I was annoyed with you yesterday, and you _are_ interfering-” 

“Varric.” Cassandra stands up and tucks the book under her arm. “You do not have to apologize. I have been thinking. I think I upset you by being too …” She clears her throat. “Um, forward. You are in love with Bianca still. Or, you do not care for love. With me. That is fine. I want you to know that I do not intentionally try to make you miserable. I hope we can be friends.”

“Yeah,” Varric says immediately, “that would be great. That is exactly what-”

But no, that’s not what he really wants, he reminds himself. He glances at Cassandra again.

Except for that one time in that alternate future at Redcliffe Castle, he has never seen her look so resigned. She looks weary, lonely, sad. This isn’t the Cassandra he knows. Cassandra always seeks out solutions, always hopes and tries and never gives up even as she acknowledges her failures, unlike him.

It would be wrong of him to let her believe that he doesn’t care for her. He can’t let things end this way. Maybe they can make it, the two of them together. They’ve made it this far. He wants to see her smile again. 

“Let’s play that game one more time, Seeker,” he says. “I exaggerated a little in our last round. The first answer wasn’t entirely true. We have to do it over.”

Cassandra raises an eyebrow. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, sitting down. He pats the space next to him.

“Alright,” she says. She sits across from him. “But you ask the question this time.”

He says, “My question is, how do I feel about you?”

“Varric,” she says, in a warning tone.

“Trust me, Cassandra.”

She folds her arms across her chest. He continues, “My three answers are. One, I like you.”

She lets out a long sigh, shakes her head.

“Two, I like you.”

Cassandra lifts her face up to the sky and closes her eyes. She is probably trying to practice a new relaxation technique.

“Three,” Varric says. “I like you.”

She looks at him now, eyes wide. Varric notes that his heart is beating faster than it should be (how ironic, this is what he gets for saying sarcastically, “Be still my beating heart. I’ve grown on you”). Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for her hand. 

She does not pull away, as he had thought she might. So he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. He hopes she appreciates this romantic gesture.

The way her gaze softens in response says that she does. Smiling, he leans forward. When Cassandra meets him halfway, he kisses her gently on the mouth.

She lets out a soft sigh, her breath warming his lips. He kisses the corner of her mouth, and she pulls him closer. Their noses bump once, and then she is kissing him again, her lips firm against his own, her fingers clenching in his hair, her body radiating a heat that is seeping into his skin, pooling into his stomach and groin.

He places one hand on her waist, and when she pauses to look at him, he smiles at her, kisses the bridge of her nose and then her cheekbones, which turn out to be not as sharp as they look. He murmurs into her ear, “You want to continue this inside?”

Cassandra releases him, frowning. “Not so fast, Varric,” she says. “You must court me properly first.”

“What does that entail exactly?” He reaches for her book. “Reading you a poem?”

She snatches the book out of his hand. “Find your own poem,” she says. “And bring me flowers. Then we’ll talk.” 

“You know I’m going to be leaving soon.”

“I know where Kirkwall is.” Cassandra hesitates for a moment before saying, “It will be different this time.”

Varric touches her cheek, and then he lifts his hand to run a finger over her braid. Not a single strand out of place, and here he is with his ponytail loose and his hair hanging in his face. “You’ll make an honest man out of me yet, Seeker.”

“I plan to,” Cassandra says, and then she smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
